This past weekend, I traveled up to Maine with Woman and Man to visit Man’s family. The seasons are much further advanced there, and the leaves on some of the trees have begun to give up their green and embrace, instead, the new and vibrant colors of the fall.

Have I ever told you, reader, of my affinity for leaves? I love them! I love to chase them and to snap them up in my teeth. I twist in the air to catch them as the wind lifts them up and ruffles my fur, both at once.

After spending several minutes playing in the leaves with Man and Woman, I found the perfect stick. All in all, a good day.

During my northerly sojourn, I also received a message, from Edgar. He said he’d come to see me soon–as soon as he could. He left the message with a dog who lives near Man’s parents, who barked it out to me as soon as I saw her. Soon, I shall see my brother again. Until then…

Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit.

-George Eliot, courtesy of goodreads.com

I have not written for some time, and I am sorry for how uncommunicative I have been. I have seen little of Edgar and little of the coyotes. Ukko and Woman’s Brother have moved to the West Coast, and only Mr. Bailey and I remain. The long, golden and green dog days of summer have drawn to a close and it is autumn once more. It has been nearly a year since I began this endeavor to chronicle my story.

When last I saw Mr. Bailey, I waxed sentimental, cataloging my desires and complaints: I missed Edgar and Ukko, I longed to solve the puzzle of the coyotes, I wanted an egg in my breakfast everyday, and not only on certain days. Mr. Bailey, wise soul that he is, reminded me to be patient in this restless season, and see how things would unfold.

“Stop and smell the hydrants,” he advised. “Look about you. See what new things there are to learn and be open to the world about you.”

I have been trying to follow his sage advice, especially on my jaunts to the sea’s edge with Woman or Man. Just a few weeks ago, I smelled the most entrancing things by the harbor. I watched some sea gulls and met a few charming older dogs who were sporting about in the surf.

The other day, as Woman and I approached the beach, we saw a family of swans floating several feet from the shore. There were a pair of adults and three gray, adolescent goslings. We went down to the beach, thinking the swans too far out to be disturbed by our presence, but no sooner did our feet touch the sand, then the largest one began to hiss and swim closer. We made our exit, not because I was afraid, but because I had no wish to disturb the swan family, and because I did not want Woman to worry. Would that I could have shown them to you, but Woman did not have her phone with her.

I do so love my trips to the beach. One day, there was so much moisture in the air and so few dogs or people about, that I felt almost like a ghost dog, alone on the beach but for Woman and surrounded by the strange atmosphere.

I’ve also been taking some road trips, which I usually enjoy, as I am typically going somewhere stupendous. Mostly, Man and Woman make me ride in the back, but sometimes, I ride in the backseat, and I can stick my nose between the two front seats between Man and Woman. This, of course, is what I prefer.

Finally, I have been getting ready for Halloween. This year, I think I may more fully take part in this human festival. Man might let me borrow part of his costume from last year:

Such young unfurrowed souls roll to meet each other like two velvet peaches that touch softly and are at rest; they mingle as easily as two brooklets that ask for nothing but to entwine themselves and ripple with ever-interlacing curves in the leafiest hiding-places.

-George Eliot, Adam Bede, courtesy of litquotes.com

Exciting news! Woman’s brother recently brought home an addition to my extended family. This little bundle of furry joy has been called Ukko, after Woman’s father’s Finnish roots.

Mr. Bailey and I have taken upon ourselves a great deal of the responsibility of raising Ukko during this formative time. We have taught him where to relieve himself, how to play nicely, and that he is at the lowest (though still cherished) member of our family pack.

Ukko and I played together for quite some time. Ukko would work up his courage and approach me to try and steal a toy, and I would pretend not to see him. If I looked toward him, he’d spring back and lie down in the grass. He puts me in mind of myself and Edgar at his age.

As is perfectly natural, Ukko is teething, and Woman’s brother and his family must constantly tell him “no bite” and give him toys to chew. I don’t believe I was ever this way, though Man and Woman assure me that I was.

As I look at Ukko, I understand all the more why Edgar and I must right wrongs and protect dog and humankind from coyotes and others who would do harm.

I shall also report upon my progress with the frisbee. Though I can more often pick up the frisbee, I still struggle at times…

Let it not be said, however, that I am a dog who shuns challenges. I will never stop trying to play with the frisbee, and I will never stop fighting the coyotes.

Today, dear reader, I am three years old. I feel wiser, stronger, and more mature. I have learned much of the world and seen many incredible things. There are still more wonders to come. Oh, those innocent days when I looked like a misshapen guinea pig and life was simple–when all I knew was the warmth of my littermates as we slept together and the strict love of our mother. I am happy in this life. Man and Woman are a good family to me, and I have many companions as well as my quest, of course.

‘My mind,’ he said, ‘rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation.’

-Sherlock Holmes in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign of Four

I have not told you, dear reader, about one of my hobbies. I have engaged in a lengthy apprenticeship with Man, who loves working on cars. Since he was a boy, he has worked on old cars, most notably a Jaguar XJ6L and the MGB you see before you.

I have felt very grown up and responsible, now that Man has allowed me to assist him in his technical labors. I oversee all his work, and sometimes provide moral support or distraction, which are important parts of the process.

I have learned a lot about how these metal beasts function, and would pit my knowledge against that of any other canine. I am invigorated by the scent of the oils and the heat of the welding. I love the mental exercise of problem-solving with Man to create the ultimate vehicle, which might even run faster than I can on my own mortal legs.

My only complaint is that the MGB is a little small for a dog of my–majesty. I can’t sit comfortably on the floor or the seat. As a passenger, I prefer the family SUV, though as a connoisseur and mechanic-in-training, I share Man’s passion for vintage cars. Best of all, I love the Man-dog time we spend together, which has deepened our relationship.

Vision restricted,and I can’t lick what itchesand the world is terrible.Frustration leads tolow grumbling and I blunderinto furniture.Woman and Man aredeaf to my soft whines of woe:patient love tested.Finally, I sighin resignation to myterm in cone prison.Then, I sigh againin case they didn’t hear me.Miserable boredom.